


i could never let you go

by sassbewitchedmyass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Drinking game fixit fic, Fluff, also they’re both kind of idiots, omg so much fluff, what’s new tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassbewitchedmyass/pseuds/sassbewitchedmyass
Summary: Drinking game fixit fic





	i could never let you go

**Author's Note:**

> For my tumblr babes😘

Brienne couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank so much. That wasn’t right. She knew she never had. But they were all alive, joyful laughter filled the hall, and Jaime kept looking at her with a peculiar softness in his eyes. So, she’d play the game and she’d drink and she’d remember that look. Brand it on her skin, bury it in her chest and lock it away tight. So, when he inevitably left she’d have this one night- this one moment- where she could look back and pretend that Jaime Lannister might care for her, even a fraction as deeply as she cared for him.

It was once more Tyrion’s turn to ask her a question. She let her gaze dart to Jaime before she brought it back to rest on Tyrion. He flicked his eyes from her to Jaime and then back again, staring at her silently for a moment with the oddest expression on his face. 

“You’re in love.” He stated resolutely, without a hint of questioning at all. 

That sobered her immediately. 

Tyrion wasn’t laughing now and his eyes were clear and calculating. He knew. Of course he did. Brienne would be fooling herself to believe that he didn’t. She was fairly certain most people knew, hard as she’d tried to hide it, except for Jaime of course. And even then, on some level, he’d probably known for a while. She just assumed if he did know that he’d chosen to ignore it, not wanting to threaten their friendship with unwanted emotions. 

She realized she’d been silent for too long. Was that just as good an admission of guilt as drinking would be? Jaime was staring at her intently with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher; his eyes half lidded and his mouth relaxed and hanging slightly open. It looked terribly like yearning. That couldn’t be right. Her heart thumped double time against her ribs. 

She was about to ask another question to signal that she wouldn’t be drinking- she couldn’t bring herself to actually say that she wasn’t in love- afraid her voice would give it away if her wide eyes and burning cheeks hadn’t already, when Tormund stumbled over to their table. Well, it was time for her to leave now. She couldn’t handle his lascivious gaze or bawdy jokes that she barely understood on the heels of THAT question. 

Standing swiftly she immediately braced herself on the table, feeling a bit light headed. Tormund reached out and clutched her forearms to right her and Jaime stood abruptly, knocking over his goblet and grasping for a sword that wasn’t at his hip. He had a murderous glint in his eye. Was he jealous? Surely not. Drunk men were always looking for a fight, weren’t they? 

She pulled away from Tormund, murmuring her thanks, and walked away from the table without another word. Brienne was halfway to her room when she realized that it most likely looked like she was avoiding the question altogether, but she refused to turn around and go back now. Let them think whatever they wished. She was too exhausted to care tonight. 

She was putting another log onto the fire when a knock came at her door, followed rapidly by several more. It was either a piss drunk Podrick trying to find his room or a piss drunk Tormund seeking her out for...whatever his reasons were. She exhaled a frustrated sigh and opened the door. Jaime. 

“You didn’t drink!” He nearly shouted at her. 

“I drank...”

“In the game! You didn’t drink.”

He pushed passed her into the room and dropped two goblets onto the table, filling them with wine. She was frozen for a few moments, watching him pour with a shaking hand. This was...odd. He turned to her and offering her a goblet, he asked softly, “Why didn’t you drink?”

Brienne hadn’t the slightest idea how to answer that. She was a shit liar, always had been. There wasn’t any way she could see to hide the truth from him tonight. But did it really matter? Did it truly matter anymore if she kept her feelings secret? He’d never reciprocate, she knew, but she was exhausted. Exhausted from the longing, the needing, the avoidance. She could drink right now and he would finally know. Then he could walk out of that door and they’d never speak of it again. 

She sucked in a calming breath and looking him directly in the eyes, drained the cup to the last drop. She refused to look away. No matter the trembling of her lips or the bright red flush she could feel rushing to her cheeks. He remained silent as he slowly stepped toward her, never letting his eyes stray from hers. 

“I came to Winterfell-“

“Because you wanted to fight for the living, yes I know, Jaime.” That wasn’t what she had expected him to say at all; maybe he would laugh at her silent declaration or possibly turn around and walk away without a comment, but him repeating his speech from the training yard had never crossed her mind. 

“No, you don’t. I came to Winterfell because of you. I came to Winterfell for you, Brienne.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

“Do you understand?”

“I convinced you at the dragonpit to-“

“You bloody daft woman!” Jaime growled, wrapping his hand around the nape of her neck and tugging her to him. So close their lips were almost brushing. So close she could see the tiny freckle at the corner of his eye. They hadn’t been this close in years. Not since their captivity. 

She had expected him to continue berating her. He didn’t. His eyes traced over every inch of her face as he shifted his fingers from her neck to her hair, massaging her scalp gently. There was a tenderness in his eyes she’d never seen before. Or maybe she had, but she’d refused to acknowledge it. She’d never been a woman who could afford to get her hopes up. He slid his hand out of her hair and brought it around to cup her face, caressing her cheek reverently with his thumb. 

“I came to Winterfell because I couldn’t let you fight those things alone. I came to Winterfell because I wasn’t staying in the south waiting on a fucking raven, or gods forbid no raven at all, to tell me that I’d lost you. I came to Winterfell because you needed me, Brienne.”

He dropped his gaze to her lips then, slowly dragging his thumb back and forth over them. He looked back to her with pleading eyes and pulled her a bit closer. His voice was low and earnest when he whispered against her lips, “I came to Winterfell because I love you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. He loved her? He came to Winterfell because he loved her? That- that wasn’t possible. He loved an ugly, lumbering, stupid, stubborn wench? Admittedly, it had been many years since Jaime had insulted her like that but...his words had a tendency to remain long after all others had faded away. He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying. But looking into his eyes now he appeared as sober as Tyrion had, if not more so. She shook her head. She simply couldn’t let herself believe it. 

“Jaime-“

He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her into him, pressing his lips to hers and wrapping his other arm tightly around her waist, bringing her body flush to his. Thighs to chest. Before he’d even truly begun to kiss her, he jerked back suddenly and tilted his head to the side, looking at her intensely. 

“No, not like that.” He muttered under his breath. 

Brienne broke out in a cold sweat while simultaneously blushing to the tips of her toes; she was sure of it. With her inexperience, she’d already ended this encounter before it had begun. But he should have known, shouldn’t he? He had eyes after all. Didn’t he see that she wasn’t a woman men went around pulling into darkened corners to steal passionate kisses from? 

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’ve never-“

He blew out a frustrated breath, tightening his fist in her hair. 

“It wasn’t you, Brienne. I was chastising myself.”

“Oh. For- for what?” 

He untangled his fingers from her hair to push back a few errant strands from her face. Brushing his fingertips along her jaw, he finally settled his hand on her neck. 

“I don’t want to take your kisses.” He murmured. 

“Oh.”

“I want you to give them to me.”

“Give them to you...”

“Do you want that?”

She nodded her head. Gods, more than anything she’d ever wanted but...

“I don’t know how.”

His gaze sharpened with a feral gleam, and his voice sounded like gravel when he pulled her closer to growl in her ear, “I’ll teach you.” 

He started slowly. Whispering his soft, warm lips across her jaw, the apple of her cheek, both eyelids, her nose, and finally he rested them upon hers. Not kissing, not moving, just lightly resting. After a seconds hesitation she moved her lips against his. Slowly and uncertainly kissing his top lip, then his bottom. She drew back to ask if she was doing it right but he gripped her neck hard, not letting her move away. So, she leaned back in and ever so softly pressed a lingering kiss to each corner of his mouth. He didn’t move, barely seemed to be breathing; his entire body was strung bow tight. Oh gods. She was a terrible kisser. She tried to pull away again but Jaime tightened his arms around her, bringing her even closer to him. 

“Keep going”, he murmured against her lips.

“You’re supposed to teach me, Jaime, I-“

“You don’t need it.” He gritted out. 

Well, if she was terrible surely he wouldn’t ask for more. Cradling his face in her hands, she scraped her nails through his stubble. She’d always wanted to do that. He made a low groan in the back of his throat and rested his forehead against her jaw. After a moment, he raised his head and locked eyes with her. 

“Please?”

She dropped her hands to clutch his shoulders and murmured, “I don’t want to do it wrong.”

“Never. You could never.”

With that one unwavering declaration, all her insecurities seemed to flee. She tugged him to her and after hesitating only a moment, crashed her lips to his. Sucking and biting and pouring every pent up emotion, every dream, every fantasy, every long winter night spent alone and wishing for him into her kiss. It was...messy and consuming and unabashedly real. It was perfectly them. She was his and he was hers. If only for a little while, if only for this one glorious kiss, if only until he came to his senses. She didn’t care about his reasons anymore. She wanted him, as much of him as he would allow. After spending her entire life being the punchline of every man’s cruel jokes and never the true choice of anyone, she was going to soak in this moment. Soak it into her very marrow. Every second of it. 

He was running his fingers roughly through her hair and kissing her back just as fiercely. Their teeth clashed and their noses bumped and Brienne couldn’t seem to care. It was a battle between them, as all things were, neither willing to yield or cede an inch. He bit her bottom lip, sucking it between his and she let out a guttural moan, arching her body to press closer to him. 

He tore his lips away from hers, staring at her wide eyed as he gasped for breath. Did he regret it already? With the loss of his lips, all of her fears came bubbling to the surface. Jaime spoke of love but how could he ever love her? He’d never loved any woman but Cersei. How could Brienne ever even entertain the thought that she could have a place in his heart too? 

He took a shuddering breath and gently pressed a fingertip to her lips. 

“Your lips are swollen.”

“Yes.” She could feel it. 

“Swollen from my kiss.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?”

“N- no.”

“Years, Brienne.”

“Please, dont.” She whispered raggedly. She didn’t want this moment ruined with Jaime’s teasing. 

“You think I lie?”

“I know you do.”

“Harrenhal.” He stated solemnly. 

“What?”

“The bath at Harrenhal was the first time I- the first time I let myself want you.”

“You were out of your head with fever, Jaime.” She protested. 

“Flushed with fever I was, but that had no bearings on what my cock wanted.”

“Please don’t tease, Jaime-“

“When I gave you Oathkeeper.”

“What?”

“The second time I allowed myself to want you.”

She swallowed hard. 

“Your eyes were shining, Brienne. And you were looking at me, not with contempt or annoyance, but with respect and admiration. I wanted to push you against that wall and take you there.”

Beads of sweat had broken out above her upper lip. She darted her tongue out to swipe them away and Jaime’s eyes zeroed in on it. 

“Riverrun.” He rasped. 

“You wanted me at Riverrun?”She questioned, disbelievingly. There was absolutely no way he had wanted her at Riverrun. He’d seemed to barely be able to stand her in his quarters. 

“No,” he clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I loved you at Riverrun.”

She furrowed her brow and blinked quickly to stave off the burn of tears. Her heart was going to crack in two. 

“Jaime,” She whispered brokenly.

“I don’t know when it happened, Brienne. Before Riverrun, I’m positive, but in that tent was the first time I-“

He blew out a frustrated breath and ran his hand through his hair. When he next spoke, he wouldn’t look at her. 

“I wanted you and I couldn’t have you. And then you tell me that honor compelled you to fight me and I-“ he trailed off and raised his eyes to meet hers. Brienne took an involuntary step back at the utter devastation she saw there. He gently grasped her hand and brought it to his face, flattening her palm over his cheek and holding it there. His voice was full of anguish with his next confession.”I couldn’t stomach it, Brienne. Not for a second. As soon as those words left your lips, I felt like the Mountain had dug his meaty hand into my chest and ripped out my heart.” 

She was speechless, yet again, but she brought her free hand up to his neck, rubbing her thumb in small circles just below his ear. She wanted to calm that fear in his eyes, soothe him however she could. 

“I was forced to acknowledge, maybe for the first time, that meeting you had made me a better man, a better knight. And all along you had no idea that you were changing me so fundamentally. I had no idea. But I did know I didn’t want to fight you then, Brienne, I never would have. How could I have raised my sword against the woman I loved? You’re loyal, and honorable and kind, and you have a heart bigger than any man deserves. But I want to deserve it, Brienne.”

“Jaime-“ 

He wouldn’t let her speak, carrying on quickly as if he physically couldn’t hold these feelings close to his chest anymore. 

“If you’re truly in love with that ginger bastard, I’ll understand and leave you be. But I had to tell you- I had to tell you that he could never want you as achingly as I do, could never come close to needing you as desperately as I do, and he could never, ever, love you as fiercely as I do. No one could.” 

“Jaime...”

She slapped a hand against his chest as his entire declaration finally permeated her love drunk haze. He covered her hand with his, squeezing it tenderly and pressing it harder to his chest. Gods, she loved him. This ridiculous man, this absolute moron, who thought she loved Tormund. 

“You think I’m in love with Tormund?”

“You- you drank.” He tilted his head and looked so adorably confused she had to smile. 

“I didn’t drink for Tormund, you idiot. Who’s the daft one now?”

He let go of her hand abruptly and began to pace back and forth in front of her, muttering under his breath. 

“Who the hells else? Better not be Clegane, I swear to the gods. I don’t think I could take him in a fight. I live through all those undead creatures and lose my damned life to the fucking Hound. Godsdammit! I’ll do it though. I’d rather fight the Night King, but then she wouldn’t be in love with him would she, you idiot. Davos? No, no, surely not. Robert’s bastard? He does look like Renly. Oh gods, he has that bloody warhammer. It could split my head in two-“

“You!”

“What?”

“I love you,” Brienne said softly. “I thought the kissing made that obvious.”

“Well- well no. I just thought-“

“I’ve loved you forever it seems, and like you, I’m not even sure where it began. In the baths at Harrenhal? In the bearpit? When you gave me a sword and armor and trusted me to find Sansa. As if you saw me as a true knight-“

“You were a true knight, Brienne. You are a true knight.” He sounded passionately adamant on that. She smiled. 

“The point is, I’ve loved you for so long, Jaime, I can’t remember what it’s like not to.”

His eyes went soft and he reached out to gently grip her elbow, drawing her closer and enfolding her in his strong arms. Pressing whisper soft kisses to her jawline, he asked, “You love me?”

“I always assumed you knew.”

“I had hoped, but no, I never knew for certain. And then I came here and there was Tormund and I wasn’t sure how you felt and Brienne I’ve been a bloody mess over it.”

She laughed a bit at that, “I can see that.”

He tightened his arms around her and buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply and placing a lingering kiss to her collarbone. A tremor shuddered through her body as he whispered into her skin, “I could never let you go now. You know that don’t you?”

She nodded against his temple, lifting her hand to the nape of his neck and trailing her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently as he’d done to her. Brienne swallowed hard and let one lone tear spill over to roll down her cheek. Happiness like she’d never known suffused her body. After years of too little time and heart wrenching goodbyes with this man; he never wanted to let her go. 

“I would never want to leave.”


End file.
